


Fading Gray and Violet

by Sylla_Headhunter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Colors, Day 10 oOF, Keitor Month 2020, Lotor is immortal, M/M, Soulmates, We have the power of Satan and Keitor on our side, sue me idc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylla_Headhunter/pseuds/Sylla_Headhunter
Summary: Someone is joining Lotor on his windowsill today - someone he doesn't know. Someone he shares a soul with, without both of them knowing
Relationships: Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51
Collections: Keitor Month 2020





	Fading Gray and Violet

**Author's Note:**

> I had half an hour left and I made it WORK  
> Thank fuck
> 
> So I found this idea on tumblr YEARS ago and I loved it. I'm sorry I can't credit anyone directly but I just wanted to say that this is by no means my ORIGINAL idea, I'm just borrowing it.   
> It's again rather short (oops) and there is a LOT more I could have written for this, possibly, but uh, it's 11:27pm as of now and that's just not gonna work so take this! And my promise to do another soulmate AU somewhere in the future

It is another one of those bleary days, Lotor thinks to himself, downing what feels like to be his second shot of whiskey in just as many minutes. The liquor burns its way down his throat, a path of self-inflicted destruction he willingly embraces. This is what he is here for, after all.

The colors around him stay as muted as they had been before, the whiskey no longer able to tint them with its smokey fingers; and Lotor feels himself long for the times he has sworn himself never to think about again.

Each year, he fails on the same days, it seems.

“ _Excuse me, may I sit?”_

_Lotor blinks up at the small creature standing in front of him – well, to say that he is looking up is stretching the word a bit. He is, in fact, able to look the creature (the human, he reminds himself) squarely in the eye, something surely impossible, had he been standing._

_The human is still looking at him, his head cocked to one side, until Lotor remembers that he had indeed been asked a question._

“ _Of course,” he answers and scoots just a few slow inches to one side, allowing the human to perch himself on the windowsill overlooking the vast and as of now empty plain stretching a far as the horizon allows it to. The wind ruffles the human’s dark hair and he tries to pull it back in, a faint scowl discoloring his pale features. He is, if Lotor may be so bold, breathtaking, his hair a stark contrast to his skin color, his eyes a startling violet tinged with gray, cheekbones sharp and defined, casting a soft shadow on to his cheeks._

_He is also, Lotor notices, quite happy with just sitting quietly next to someone he does not know anything about. Which is rather peculiar._

“ _May I be so bold and ask what exactly you are doing here?”, he asks, honestly surprised about his own voice reaching out to someone else. He had never thought he would but it seems like his words want to leave him nonetheless._

_The human blinks, eyes widening for a split second, before shrugging._

“ _I wanted to get out of there.”  
He motions back towards the castle, and Lotor nods._

“ _Ah”, he makes, not sure he understands entirely. He had always thought humans to be creatures of merriment and company – not creatures perching on a ledge, next to something they could never understand._

_The human makes a soft sound and it takes Lotor a while to understand that it is, in fact, a laugh. It feels different than the ones he is used to, the ones resounding in a forest as old as time itself; it is short-lived, fluttering through the air between them like a butterfly and landing on Lotor’s face with the mournful kiss of a parting lover. He doesn’t want to disturb it, doesn’t want for it to end; but there lies the irony, doesn’t it? For all things humans do tend to find their end rather sooner than later._

“ _You seem confused about that.”  
“I am,” Lotor admits, humming softly to himself. The human shrugs._

“ _I don’t like company. A lot of it, I mean. Out here it’s … peaceful. Quiet, even.”  
Lotor listens, his head tilted to one side as he is trying to understand the mystery sitting next to him. He understand in a way, he supposes. There is a serenity to the scenery in front of them, the way their breath marks the air with silvery puffs of heat. The way the softly spoken words next to him find their way to Lotor’s ears. He listens to all of it, and suddenly the human seems to be spilling his entire tale, talking seemingly at random about events Lotor has never heard about, about people he knows nothing about. It is refreshing, in a way that all humans are._

_Another strand of dark hair flutters past his eyes and without thinking, Lotor grabs it between two of his fingers and tries to tuck it back, a mindless gesture that makes their quiet pocket of the world shatter into pieces as_ color  _blooms on his hand, traveling over towards his human companion and making both of them gasp for breath. It tingles softly and Lotor almost immediately snatches his hand back, staring at fingers the color of a gently hued rainbow._

“ _Impossible,” he croaks and the human mirrors the word almost at the same time, making Lotor look up. Wide-eyed purple eyes meet his, startlingly vulnerable and so, so young it makes Lotor’s heart ache as if he had already lost him._

“ _You’re-”  
The human cuts himself short, fingers almost touching his discolored strand of hair. The tremble, Lotor realizes and he has to fight the sudden urge to let them fit into his hands._

“ _You’re my soulmate,” the human manages to say finally, and Lotor feels his world tilt precariously at the finality of their discovery._

Memories are dreadful little devils, Lotor muses to himself, watching his ice cubes clink against each other while drowning in his liquor. They like to spit in your face the moment you give them a hint of your attention towards them wavering, and today is a day he cannot seem to forget a face that haunts his dreams whenever he allows his eyes to close.

_Keith._

His name feels as cold and lonely as his fingers feel, devoid of color for a few centuries now and yet Lotor finds himself unwilling to forget it entirely. The sharp ache at seeing his flower wilt away into nothingness is paling against the sheer panic seizing him whenever he thinks about losing Keith entirely to the fog of his forgotten memories.

He has learned a lot in his years with the slender human. How laughter tastes like freshly picked berries on shared lips. How warm and affectionate and _caring_ a lover’s embrace can be. How the sky seems to explode into a myriad of colors whenever he looks at it through his soulmate’s eyes.

As much as it pains him, he doesn’t want to forget.

The door to the bar is thrust open, cleaving neatly through the spell the memories have woven around him, leaving him with shattered ruins and a very clear distaste for interruptions. His eyes flick towards the intruder barging in on him quietly nursing his drink and he feels the world tilt on its axis for the second time in his entire, immortal life.

Purple eyes flicker to life, gray clouds shielding their color from the outside world, piercing his heart with a harsh and loving blow.

“Sorry about that.”  
The sheepish apology does nothing to soothe his frantic heartbeat as Lotor nods, unable to speak, unable to do anything but stare at this person trudging up next to him, wet hair as dark as the night itself.

“Uh. Can I sit here?”  
“Yes,” Lotor manages to breathe softly, scooting a bit to his right, his hands trembling ever so slightly. Keith cocks his head and nods thankfully, before plopping down next to him like a wet disgruntled cat. It makes his heart ache and before he can think about this any further, Lotor offers him his own shawl.

“Use it. You’re wet.” His voice is not yet working again and he has to repeat his words for Keith to catch on – who smiles a crooked smile that makes Lotor’s heart flutter like a dying dragonfly.

“You can’t just hand out your stuff to strangers because they’re dumb enough to not take an umbrella with them,” Keith snorts, leaving Lotor breathless for the first time in so many years he’s lost count.

“I insist,” he says hurriedly, pushing the piece of cloth into Keith’s hand and accidentally brushing his slender fingers with his own. A jolt runs through both of them and Lotor feels his heart break and heal all over again as colors burst to life between them, bringing with them a bittersweet promise of love, loss and deja-vu.

“You’re my soulmate.” It’s he same sense of wonder and awe Keith’s voice has carried with it a few centuries ago and Lotor feels something wet slide down his cheek, breath hitching in his throat.

“Yes, you are, Keith,” he manages roughly before anything might stop the words tumbling from his lips. He misses the way soft gray eyes widen, the way purple bleeds into them far more prominent.

He doesn’t miss the way those lips form a word that makes him lose his footing entirely, stumbling down into an aching emotion so strong he can’t hold on to anything but this one fleeting moment, passing before his eyes.

“Lotor?”

**Author's Note:**

> btw: I didn't SPECIFY what kind of immortal Lotor is and honestly, I have no clue about it myself so let's just say I didn't wanna describe his race TOO much to keep the magic alive that is me trying to write from his perspective. Ahem


End file.
